


Your hurt me

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild cussing, might get worse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:55:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24473125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “Tell me more about this— Sherlock Holmes.”John takes a deep breath, attempting to steady himself.“He is the smartest man I know. Also the most inconsiderate.”Or, John goes to a his therapist and realizes that he’s in love with Sherlock.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	1. John

“Tell me more about this— Sherlock Holmes.” 

John takes a deep breath, attempting to steady himself.  
“He is the smartest man I know. Also the most inconsiderate.” 

The therapist scribbles something down on her pad, tilted upward so John cannot read it. 

“Why is he inconsiderate?” She asks, looking up at him 

“He was— careless. And his carelessness got my wife killed.” He chokes out the last part

“How was he careless?” 

“H- he was overconfident in his abilities. He thought that the woman wouldn’t shoot. But she did, and my wife— Mary” her voice comes out of his mouth a watery mess  
“She saved him- she gave her life to save him.” 

His therapist looked up, eyes sad. 

“I am sorry.” Was all she said. 

“Do you ever talk to sherlock?”

“No.” He answers simply, mouth drawn down in a frown

“Has he contacted you? Or did you tell him not to do so?” 

“I told him to— to fuck off.” 

“Oh.” 

“Is this your only reason to hate this man?” 

John thinks about this, he hates Sherlock, he knows that. He is the reason his wife is dead. 

He doesn’t answer. The clock ticks noisily in the background, silence dragging on. 

“Tell me a good memory with Sherlock” 

John breathes, memories flooding his brain. So many memories. He picks his favorite, a short and simple one. Recurring and sweet. 

“Sherlock used to keep the tea mugs on a high shelf, then I first moved in with him. It was just out of reach for me- 

John stands on the balls of his feet, attempting to make himself taller so he can reach a mug. He refuses to ask sherlock for help out of embarrassment. He grunts and slinks back down once more. He doesn’t need tea that badly he decides. 

“I didn’t drink tea unless sherlock was making it. And one day I opened the cabinet, and there where mugs below the high shelf.” 

He opens his mouth into a soft o, then reaches up and grasps its handle  
“Sherlock? Would you like some tea?” He asks. Sherlock yells yes from the other room. 

“We never mentioned that. I suspect he saw me struggling one day and found me pitiful. I am grateful for him doing that, it helped me warm up to him..” he trails off, he was in a dream state, recounting the memory. That memory made him happy, he shouldn’t be happy. He slips into sorrow again, having one moment of happiness made him feel guilty 

“I shouldn’t be happy” he told himself, unknowingly out loud. 

His therapist, Ella, looked appalled at this. 

“John.” She said forcefully, causing him to look up at her  
“You deserve time be happy. Everyone does. You have been through so much, and you have saved many people.” 

Johns eyes fill with tears. He struggles against them to make sure they don’t fall. Something he has gotten good at over the past few months.

“How’s Rosie?” She asks, breaking the thick silence that filled the room. 

“She’s staying with a friend.” 

“Alright.” 

They begin recounting memories of Sherlock and John, bad mixed with good, bloody stories and small talk at dinner. John began crying. The first time he has cried in front of anyone since Mary’s cremation. They slipped down his cheeks, chest heaving in great sobs. He can’t hold it in anymore. He cries for like life he was going to have, he cries for the people he lost, he cries for Sherlock, his daughter and the mother she lost. 

The last tear falls into his shirt, his hand wiping it away immediately. 

“Do you wish to continue?”


	2. Sherlock

Sherlock steps out of the cab, clutching a small bag. He looks around, then walks towards Molly’s door.  
“Oh hello Sherlock!” She says wearily. “Hello molly. How’s Rosie?” He almost asks about John, but bites his tongue. He knows John wants him to, _fuck off_ , but he is still worried about his dear friend. The man he is in _love_ with.

“She’s doing good— sleeping better than she has in a while.” She runs her hands through her hair.

“Come in?” She says it like a question but phrases it like an order. He walks in, expecting a disaster of a house, but it is clean except for a few misplaced items.

Sherlock secretly _loves_ children, especially Rosie. He comes once a week bringing relief for Molly and games for rosie.  
Today he brought a stuffed hedgehog.

Her meaty little hands tried to grab the toy, which was just far enough for her not to be able to reach it.

Sherlock handed it to her

“Hedgehogs remind me of John, you know that?” He says softy

Rosie looks up, her large eyes boring into Sherlock

“They are small, prickly when you first know them but cuddly once they relax..” he says this sadly, he knows he will never get John back.

He sometimes dreams of a life where he and John are in the flat, playing with Rosie.  
They are married and happy, where everyday they kiss each other goodmorning and goodnight. They take cases together, grow old together. Then Sherlock wakes up in tears, knowing that this will never happen.

Rosie giggles, palming the stuffed toy. Her toothless mouth is stretched out into a grin.

Molly bursts into the room,

“johns coming! To pick up Rosie!” She says, panicked. Sherlock isn’t supposed to be here, they both know that.

Sherlock bends down and gives Rosie a quick kiss on the forehead. He rushes out of the door, not wanting to upset John. Not wanting John to see him.

He runs around a corner, waiting to catch a cab. He stops mid step.

“John—“ he breathes out.  
“Shit.” He tries to go unnoticed, block his face. He knows that this is impossible but he tries anyway.

“Sherlock?”


	3. John

“You have been through so much with Sherlock”

She hesitates, testing for johns reaction

He stays silent

“And he hasn’t tried to contact you? In any way?”

John shakes his head.

“Do you hate Sherlock?”

John pauses and really thinks about this. A few hours ago he would have responded with a curt, yes, and gone on with his day. He doesn’t hate Sherlock, he has lived years of his life with him, grown closer than colleagues. Friends. 

“The most broken I have seen you is when the people you loved the most in your life died.” Ella says

Something cracks inside of John. _“Loves...”_

he says softly He _loved_ Mary. But he could never fully forgive her for lying to him. When Sherlock, came “back from the dead” he only treated him with hostility and anger. Sherlock broke his heart. Because John _loved_ Sherlock. He was damaged and depressed when Sherlock died. And he has never really reconverted from that. 

“I _love_ sherlock.” He says, it just now dawning on him. 

“I have for a long time”

Ella smiles

“I think our session is finished” she says simply.

John hops in a cab, going to Molly’s house.

More than halfway there he realizes he should call her.   
He dials her number

“Molly? I’m coming to get Rosie, is that okay?”   
She gasps

“Yeah! Sounds great!” She says shrilly, voice slightly panicked

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes! We’re good, me and Mary are just playing!”

“Okay— I’m almost there”

she hangs up

He steps out of the car a block off, not minding the small walk. Molly’s house was difficult to drop someone off at.

He sees a flash a dark navy blue, he blinks it off, thinking it was just wishful thinking. He stops and stands, seeing it again.   
“Sherlock?” He asks, knowing no one will answer.

He walks up to the corner of the street. No one is there exept for the few stray passerby.   
He sees someone, a tall man with black hair sweeping across his forehead. A blue coat brushes against his legs, he tries to hide his face with his hand, it doesn’t work

“Sherlock?”


	4. Sherlock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry this is pitifully short! I feel bad but it gets better I hope

Sherlocks mind reels, trying to think of an acceptable excuse.   
He looks at John, he has been crying. Red eyes, slightly puffy. He wants to comfort John, but he knows he need to step away, never speak to him again. So John can be happy. 

“What are you doing here?” John asks, eyes wide and slightly frightened

“I am— picking up groceries-“ Sherlock tries to be convincing. It is a fruitless struggle, John knows that is incorrect. 

“Why are you really here?” John asks 

“I come here once a week— to visit Rosie.” 

John sighs, walking up to sherlock. 

Sherlock flinches, expecting a blow 

John stops at this small movement, feeling guilt settle in the pit of his stomach.   
“Would you like to get tea some time?” 

Sherlock looks shocked, surprised that the man that had told him months ago to fuck off was asking him out for tea.   
He shook off his initial bewilderment and chocked out   
“Yes. Tomorrow?” He asks 

They figure out the time and place with short sentences and awkward looks. Eventually John says he should   
“Go pick Rosie up.”   
“Alright”   
“See you tomorrow?” They say simultaneously 

They each turn and leave. 

That small action warms his cracked heart, causing him to smile.


	5. Sherlock

Sherlock had always been in _love_ with John.

He had felt that feeling when he figured out that John shot the cabby. It was a warm feeling, one that warmed his cheeks and stomach. Things danced and fought in his heart, making it beat faster whenever John was close.

He didn’t know what this feeling was, he knew he wasn’t sick, and he didn’t understand until he saved John. He was worried for the man he _loved_ , the man he respected.  
  
The man he would give his life for.

But he couldn’t tell this to John. The man who insists they are

 _“Not a couple ”_ Or 

_”not gay!_ ”

He sits in a bitter stillness, waiting for the man who will never _love_ him back.


	6. John

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! If you want me to make this a series, like where they raise Rosie, move in to the flat, and begin to be more comfortable in a relationship please comment! 
> 
> Also I hope that this wasn’t too cheesy of an ending— :)

John shrugs on his jacket, dread and happiness fighting in the pit of his stomach. They claw and grapple for control, just making John want to vomit.  
  
He hears a small bubble of laughter from behind him, Rosie.

“Hello dear” he says softly

She grabs his face with her small hands, giggling

“I’m going to try and tell sherlock I _love_ him-“

She stops giggling, her face now serious. She brings his face closer and kisses his forehead.

“Thanks Rosie...”

“I _love_ you too.” 

He hops out of the cab, clenching and unclenching his fist.

His heart is beating hard against his chest, he is sure the people on the street can hear it.

The bell jingles and he sees fidgety Sherlock bouncing up and down in his booth.

He lifts his arm up, waving him over. John takes a steadying breath. “You can do this,” he says so softly he can barely hear it.

They sit in silence. Not one that you would describe as awkward, a thick melancholy silence. One that you could cut through with a knife.

Sherlock is the first to speak

“I am sorry-“

John lifts his head, having been looking at his hands

“I shouldn’t have-“ his voice breaks

“I shouldn’t have been so cocky. I should have known her power, her unpredictability.” He tries again,

“I should be the dead one” he says faintly John looks up, his eyes wide and somber

“Sherlock. She protected you for a reason”

“She gave her life for a reason-“

Sherlock looks up, sad eyes filled with ghostly tears.

They fall into a easy conversation, like the conversations before Mary Before John knew he _loved_ Sherlock.

They ordered drinks. Chai for Sherlock and earl grey for John.

Sherlock grabs his mug, ignoring the thin handle and grasping its body.

“I have to tell you something-“ he pauses, reconsidering. He needs to do this, he knows. He can hear his heartbeat “I _love_ you. I probably always knew that, just never acknowledged it. I shot a man for you, even though I only knew you for a few days. I _love_ you Sherlock Holmes. And I am really sorry if this ruins anything but- I needed to do it” Sherlocks eyes widen, its as if a miracle was disposed into his lap. John Watson said that he _loved_ him. The man he thought would never- could never recuperate his feelings, was sitting before him telling him he _loved_ him. 

“John-“ Sherlocks voice is watery

“John. I have failed you so many times, I failed you the day I died, I failed you the day that Mary...” he says her name in a worried sad tone, he was thought the mention of her would break the spell “Was shot.”  
“I don’t care. I _love_ you. And I will never fully forgive you for that, and I will never get over Mary’s death. I _love_ her too.” 

Silent tears fall from their faces

“I _love_ you too John. I always have and always will...”

They reach out to each other, grasping hands and sitting in a satisfying peace. They _love_ one another.  
And always will


End file.
